The Stream
by Ember Nickel
Summary: After a crime on the Andalite homeworld, even war heroes have trouble sleeping. (Sequel to "The Valley" and "Snakes and Locusts," can be read independently.)


For ThemeMorphs October 2014. Also for superpony55, Kharina, and everyone else who wanted more in this series.

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><p>I woke before dawn and found myself pawing at the grass. Not grazing, just feeling its familiar blades under my hooves. There was so much, and it would all feel much the same if I took it in. Other species had so many more diverse tastes—but then, other worlds had so many species overlapping on the same planet. Tiny insects below the ground, wild flowers and trees springing up from the soil, small animals running past—and, circling above, the birds of the air. Once I had found myself jealous of organisms that tasted the fruits of their world, but in the semidarkness I was content to hold myself steady, the grass below me just a location for sleep that would not return.<p>

I could make out a few of the brightest stars, and one stalk eye tried to trace out the flight path of what I took for a busy satellite. After so many spaceflights, all the stars seemed distorted, too slow-moving, but they would vanish and return over the course of just another day.

At a noise from across the scoop, I flinched, instinctively swinging my tail forward, but of course whoever had woken was far too away to reach. So I lowered my tail as I called out ‹Hello?›

There was no threat, I reminded myself, if only because we were too secure out here, isolated by the demands of my rank even beyond the Andalite craving for open spaces. Ironic that I was more likely to be accosted in the boundless expanses of real space than the confines of the homeworld...but that was the past. Just because an aging celebrity like Ajaht-Litsom-Esth had been the victim of a crime in his own scoop did not mean we were at risk. There could be no possible correlation.

‹Hello?› I repeated. But there was no returning thought-speak, no mind opening up to my own.

I felt my muscles tense under me, and paused just long enough to let them slacken and arc my tail-blade forward again. Bounding forward, I turned and pulled up in front of the awning.

"Hi. Ax? Couldn't sleep either?"

There was my _shorm_, Tobias, turning to face me, a bowl of human food in his hand. In the back corner of the lodge, we'd needed to install several appliances to alter the temperatures of human food—we could get some delivered from the alien institutes at the spaceports, of course, rather than going in ourselves all the time, but it had been an unexpected redesign.

‹No,› I admitted, trying not to laugh at myself. ‹Are you comfortable here? Is the bed adequate?›

"It's great," he said, almost amused. "I mean—it's not a spaceship."

Of course, my nephew was not the best point of reference for human household objects. ‹All right.›

"Are _you _all right?"

‹Yes. On alert, I suppose, but that's only to be expected.›

"Okay. I just didn't want to wake up...your...I mean, Grandmother and Grandfather."

The words were still stiff in his mouth, and again I remembered the days when a rush of emotions could flash across a burst of thought-speech. Even if it was not yet intended, there was more to the language then his stiff syllables. He had not yet become familiar with my father's boastful sprints, his ridiculous pride at outrunning the neighbors in a footrace to the stream. Nor did he recognize the transponders my mother dissembled for fun in her spare time, reconstituting to communicate as part of an amateur broadcasting network. Yet I clung to the hope they could begin to love each other—not just marvel at the strange aliens they'd heard so much about. If he could discover an uncle worth calling family, then why not?

‹Like you could wake Father if you tried,› I teased. Briefly, I wondered whether it was in poor taste—would Tobias have not preferred to roar like a Hork-Bajir, given the chance?—but he made no comment. ‹He sleeps like a tree!›

Tobias set down the food, smiling. "Are you going back to sleep?"

‹I don't suppose I can. I might run to the stream.›

"Okay. Maybe I'll join you."

I didn't know how to give voice to the sudden pangs of fear—_what if there's an intrusion_?, so I responded with a mere ‹Take your time.› Maybe some of my emotion carried in the thought-speech after all, because he blushed as he waved at me, from behind hair that had grown long from months in space. I kept reminding him there would surely be human barbers in the spaceports, and he kept procrastinating on the journey in.

So I bounded towards the stream, at first charging forward with nervous energy, but slowing by the time I drew close even after just a short distance—perhaps I really had slept poorly, or perhaps the run had tired me out. Irritated, I began practicing blade postures, pivoting my eyestalks first one way and then the next as I dueled a phantom assailant. Flat strike, dodge of the legs, quick point, arm brace...

I don't know how long I stood there, striking the air, before pausing to catch my breath. When I did, Tobias was there with another wave—he had set his food down on a nearby rock. "Looking good!"

‹It's nothing,› I said, turning to face him with all four eyes. ‹Exhibition tricks, nothing more, and what good are those?›

"I mean, in a fight with a Kelbrid or a Hork-Bajir, they might not do much good. But against an Andalite, for show..."

‹I don't fight for show,› I snapped.

"Okay. Sorry."

‹No. It's just...›

"Is this about Ajaht whatever his name is?"

‹Ajaht-Litsom-Esth has nothing to _do_ with me. He was a celebrity when I was just—just Elfangor's little brother. Just because some greedy criminal decided to attempt to steal his belongings, does _not_ mean you're at risk!›

Tobias sat down and laughed—a delightful, human noise that vanished into the breeze off the stream. "I see."

‹If anything happened...I am still an accomplished tail-fighter. I would repel them, unless morphing was faster.›

"I trust you, Ax. It's okay."

Had I expected distrust? Unsettled, I began to browse the horizon with my stalk eyes. ‹I recognize this must seem violent. Of course we have many fast transport vehicles, and instantaneous communication to notify law enforcement. It is not so different from Earth. Just because we happen to be able to tail fight...›

"You said it yourself, when we had the news about Ajaht, this is rare. I don't expect anything."

‹But supposing it did?›

"What if it did? Ajaht contacted the authorities, they were dealt with."

‹And if he'd fought back? At his age, out of practice?›

Tobias rolled his eyes, reaching for a bite of food. "You tell me, if it means so much to you. What would have happened?"

‹At worst...› At worst we were still at peace, with the Yeerks, the humans, even the Kelbrid. At worst, Ajaht was an athlete, an entertainer, his skills not needed to defend the modern way of life. ‹No doubt his sister would have claimed the old right to avenge him. With her arsenal of skills, I'm sure any invader would be more than dealt with.›

"There you go, then," Tobias laughed, "it's not just for wartime?"

‹We do _have _law enforcement for a reason. But you're aware our society is...imperfect in many regards.›

"You're telling me."

‹And I'm confident that...that family would draw on any precedent they could take to establish legitimacy, if they felt vengeful.› It was hard to feel _nostalgic_ for days when we had to worry about at least one and maybe two species bent on exterminating the human population of Earth, but in some respects, it had been a simpler time.

"Oh. Well then." Tobias blinked, then paced, taking off his shoes and dipping his foot into the stream. He splashed, then pulled back, shivering. "Hey, Ax?"

‹Yes?›

"Can I ask you something?"

‹Certainly.›

"Not about Ajaht, or our scoop, or—or the Kelbrid, or anything, okay?"

‹Yes...›

"Was I..." He looked down, shook his head, then faced me again. "Was I supposed to kill Visser Three?"

‹What?› I almost jumped in shock. The war was _over_. Visser Three, Esplin 9466, was secure in prison far from Earth. ‹What are you talking about?›

"It's tradition, yeah? You need to avenge your family—I mean, you were trying to avenge your brother, for years and years. Once I knew he was my father, shouldn't I have...done something?"

I paused. ‹We were all working to bring about Visser Three's defeat. You played your part.›

"All the same. If I had known."

‹I had already spoken to Grandfather. To carry out the ritual. The duty was mine.›

"So it was just about the ritual, for you?"

‹I was light-years from home, from any of my people, as far as I knew. It was a way to stay...observant. Vigilant.›

"We were all vigilant."

‹I could not ask you to offer your life. Not when you'd already offered your human life. How could you be the servant of your people, if your people did not have a place for you?›

"And where were your people? I could have been—whatever, the servant of honor."

‹I didn't want to burden you,› I admitted. What more was there? ‹At first, I was so surprised—joyful, but surprised—that you were my family. But I could not ask you to take on all our customs, least of all this. You had so many duties already, and were already dedicated to our victory...›

"It wasn't just about you wanting to kill him yourself?"

‹It _mostly_ was not.› But we both laughed, aloud and silently. ‹Put it this way. Your mother was morph-capable, by the end of the war. If you had known about this custom, all along, and had taken on the duty yourself—would you have asked as much of her?›

"Of course I wouldn't! It wasn't her fight, she didn't even remember him. It's not fair, but that's what it was."

‹Case in point.›

"It _was_ my fight, though."

‹Not before it was mine.›

"Did you ever want to? Explain that part, to me?"

‹I don't think it ever occurred to me. In all honesty. We had enough going on.›

"Well. If you stand by the decision—I appreciate it, I think."

‹You do?› I hadn't gotten that impression at all. ‹That's good.›

"At least at the time. I knew Andalites could be corrupt, militaristic, all of that, but what I took from you, from Elfangor's side...remember that first time I morphed you? That natural optimism. That was what I wanted, even if I didn't know it."

It didn't make me feel any more secure, no less likely to snap to attention at strange noises or recoil from thoughts of malevolent hiveminds, deep in space. Yet after all the anxiety, somehow the talk of a war already past gave me some relief. ‹I'm glad to know that.›

"We didn't have to kill him. I'm not—it could have—well, who knows. But it didn't have to be revenge, not for—for Elfangor."

‹He wouldn't have minded,› I said. ‹To ignore the traditions, after everything we've been through? He'd just have been glad of the peace.›

Tobias smiled. "I know."

‹Of course you do.›

"Not just you, not just the _hirac delest..._Grandmother tells me things, too. That much, I've figured out."

I dipped my rear hoof into the water, for a moment not even beginning any contemplations, just drinking, and I smiled with my eyes. ‹That's good to hear.›

Tobias nodded. "Time for a civilian ritual, then? Or should we see whether Grandfather has made a mess out of the cereal yet?"

And there would be time for both. ‹Yes.›


End file.
